


Kisses Stolen, Freely Given

by Nicnac



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Kisses, Other, Romance, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22280215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicnac/pseuds/Nicnac
Summary: Neither of them could remember their first kiss.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 90





	Kisses Stolen, Freely Given

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hope_in_the_dark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_in_the_dark/gifts).



> This was originally prompted on [tumblr](https://nicnacsnonsense.tumblr.com/post/190285654592/22-for-the-headcanon-thing-22-where-does-their) where hope asked me what my headcanon for where Azcrow’s first kiss was. Things got out of hand, as they so often do with me.

Neither of them could remember their first kiss. There had been so many different kisses for so many different reasons across 6000 years; it wasn’t the sort of thing that one could keep track of. A person could hardly step foot in France without exchanging at least half a dozen cheek kisses, and Aziraphale was so fond of his crepes.

Then there had been that five year period during the Regency era. Aziraphale had been female presenting for the first time in a millennium if not two, and Crowley had absolutely delighted in playing the cad and doing everything possible to make her flush. This included an inordinate amount of lingering kisses to the back of the hand.

Crowley’s century long nap was far from the first time Aziraphale had caught Crowley sleeping, but it was the occasion that stood out the most vividly for obvious reasons. Crowley didn’t look more vulnerable when he was asleep, not really, not to Aziraphale, but there was something so heart-rending about it all the same. Aziraphale had always placed a kiss on his forehead, not a blessing exactly, but a wish. _Rest well. Stay safe._

Mouth kisses too. In Rome for certain, there had been kisses for every occasion in Rome, including mouth kisses. A greeting between friends, and they were friends by then. By oysters at Petronius’ at the very latest. Also in all the times the Black Knight and Sir Aziraphale has faced off, they had always exchanged a kiss of peace before battle. If those friendly kisses, those kisses bound by custom, lasted just a little longer than customary, if the two of them melted into them a little more than was friendly, well…

The closest thing to their first _kiss_ , where the word was laden with meaning, had been on the day of Warlock’s birthday party. They had sat together in the Bentley in the Dowling’s drive. Neither of them had dared to get out. If they got out then it was real. If they got out then in just a few hours the Antichrist would receive his hellhound and the world would well and truly begin to end. Aziraphale had been nervously fiddling with his hands and Crowley had been watching him. He’d always been watching Aziraphale since the very beginning and now it seemed like he’d be watching him right up until the fast-approaching end. Without letting himself think about it, Crowley had leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Aziraphale’s lips. Afterwards Aziraphale had looked at him wide-eyed and Crowley had lost all his nerve. “For luck,” he had said, and then quickly fumbled his way out of the car.

The truth was neither of them could remember their first kiss. But if you asked them, if you asked them…

When they first walked into the Ritz, that Sunday after the world didn’t end, the two of them were still giddy with triumph. But as the afternoon grew golden and hazy, so did they. A warm glow of contentment grew between them, a feeling they’d only known in brief fits and snatches before. They walked back side by side, exactly as they had many times before, but completely new and different.

When they reached the bookshop there was no pause at the threshold. There was no need to extend an invitation, to ask for permission. They went in together like it was completely natural, like things had always been the way they ought to be.

Aziraphale began heading toward the back room, but Crowley stopped him. He took Aziraphale’s hand and, maintaining eye contact the entire time, pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s knuckles. “I love you, you know,” he said.

Aziraphale smiled, soft and bright. “Oh my darling. I do love you so.” He stepped in closer so he could place a kiss on Crowley’s forehead. Then one on each cheek. Then two more on either eyelid. Then one on the tip of his nose.

Crowley barked out a laugh. “How did I fall in love with someone with someone so ridiculous?” His arms had come to encircle Azirphale’s waist, pulling them closer together. Aziraphale’s hands had slipped from their perch on Crowley’s shoulders and were now gently playing with the fine hairs at the nape of Crowley’s neck.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Aziraphale’s voice was prim, but there was a twitch of amusement to his lips and a glint of laughter in his eyes.

“You utter bastard,” Crowley said, laughing again. There was far too much joy here, now, in this moment for one person to hold alone. So he cupped a hand around Aziraphale’s jaw and guided them in their first real kiss.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Comments are adored!


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